Las Vegas Review-Journal (Sunday)
Two draftees fought in ’Nam, but one didn’t return home
Jeanne Emmerson remembers her big brother “Ronnie” as a “quiet, peaceful, intelligent” young man who loved to sing “Kisses Sweeter than Wine.”
The veterans in Charlie Company remember him as the short, white geeky guy who hung out with his black athletic guardian, Willie McTear.
A Rancho High School graduate Class of ’64, “Schworer,” as McTear calls him, had his sights set on a career in the blossoming field of computer science.
They were two Las Vegas soldiers who were drafted 50 years ago, on May 16, 1966. They fought fierce battles in Vietnam’s Mekong Delta in a special company of all-draftees.
Willie came home. Ronnie didn’t.
Charlie Company, 4th Battal-
ion, 47th Infantry of the Army’s 9th Infantry Division was outnumbered in battles in May and June 1967. With 26 killed in action, one missing in action, and 105 wounded, the company suffered more than 80 percent casualties.
All but Spc. Ronald Paul Schworer returned to U.S. soil either on the plane back to the West Coast or in flagged-draped caskets.
Why did some make it and others didn’t?
“There is no answer to that question,” Steve Hopper told the 43 Charlie Company vets who gathered Wednesday at Treasure Island to mark the 50th anniversary of that day that “something really significant happened in our lives: We got drafted.”
“We ate dirt. We slept. We worked. We labored. We fell asleep in the classroom at times. But we became soldiers,” Hopper said. “I was so proud to be part of that group.
“I’m especially proud today,” he said. “We’ve got a room full of heroes here. You had my back. I had yours. Willie McTear had my back and Larry Lilly had Willie’s. And it goes on and on.
“We became brothers,” Hopper said. “Some of us were so young at the time that our senior trip was a trip to Vietnam.”
MISSING IN ACTION
A couple Charlie Company veterans read the names of the 27 soldiers who died in Vietnam and 27 more who have died since the company came home. Schworer’s name was near the beginning of the list, on April 9, 1967.
That’s when 2nd Platoon endured a hail of friendly fire while crossing a swift river when a gunner aboard a low-flying U.S. helicopter mistook them for Viet Cong.
No one was hit by the spray of bullets but in the confusion, Schworer, who didn’t swim well, lost his grip on the rope he was holding that was attached to a rubber raft. He drowned and his body was never found despite repeated dives by platoon leader Jack Benedick.
“When I looked back and couldn’t see him, that was really, really, really hard,” McTear said.
“He was a guy we all loved. He was humble and meek,” he said. “I never seen a guy who was such a complete soldier. … For him, of all the people in the unit, it was so unfair for him to be taken away from us.”
For four decades, McTear had been unable to reach any of Schworer’s immediate family members, most of whom had since died except for Schworer’s younger sister, Emmerson. She had moved out of state.
On Wednesday, she relayed news to McTear in an email that he read at the reunion.
“Ronnie is no longer officially missing in action,” says the email from Emmerson. “I was contacted several years ago by my uncle who had a letter from the Army stating that his status had been changed to ‘presumed dead.’”
Said McTear: “That’s closure for us.”
In his mind, “it brings him home. We never left anybody behind. This puts to rest and brings closure to Ron Schworer’s chapter with us. Everybody adored him. “
RACE RELATIONS
Schworer and McTear served sideby-side at a time when racial strife was prevalent at home and in the Army.
McTear came to Las Vegas in 1962 from Newellton, Louisiana. He bounced between Nevada and Louisiana, working in Las Vegas to save money for attending a semester at a time at Southern University in Baton Rouge.
Benedick made it clear during training at Fort Riley, Kansas: “There are no black or white soldiers, just soldiers.’”
Bob Ehlert, of Battle Lake, Minnesota, was 19 at the time.
“I didn’t grow up with any black people at all,” said Ehlert, whose supporters, Minnesota Loving Hands, made and delivered 70 comfort quilts for the Charlie Company vets and families.
“Willie’s from down South and he had bad experience with whites and didn’t mix with them much. By the time we got in Vietnam we were great buddies and there was no color,” Ehlert said.
NO MORE WAR
When they returned from Vietnam on a “freedom flight,” many of the soldiers kissed the ground. There was no parade or homecoming reception, only jeering, spitting anti-war protesters.
“I was so hurt I took my uniform off,” McTear said. “I didn’t want to be part of any war.”
Emmerson said Charlie Company’s recognition of Ron and knowing his status has changed from missing-in-action to presumed dead “has given me some closure, too.”
“Ronnie was a wonderful man: very bright, sensitive, gentle, and resilient,” she said. “We all loved and admired him, and I still miss him very much.”
She added that personal stories about the Vietnam War for which more than 58,000 lost their lives “are so important because they help us all see the vets as real people, not just invisible, cold statistics.”
“I still feel anger about the war, though I’m not obsessed with it,” she said. “We all have to find a way to move on and find joy in life, while never forgetting those who were lost.”